


The Switch

by campingwiththecharmings



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campingwiththecharmings/pseuds/campingwiththecharmings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(CS college AU) My rendition of "picked up the wrong book when we bumped into each other" (originally posted on Tumblr).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Two things you may like to know before you read:
> 
> 1\. This is my first Captain Swan fic  
> 2\. It's been about 10 years since I last wrote something so please forgive the the possible rustiness of my skills.
> 
> (Un-beta'ed)

Emma rushed across the semi-crowded courtyard; half eaten bear-claw in her mouth, stack of books in her arms.

God, she was _so_ late.

Her professor was going to murder her.

This was all David’s fault. David and his stupid, old-fashioned, _wind-up_ alarm clock.

“Think of it as a good luck charm,” he’d told her as she’d been packing for her final semester of college. “I used it all throughout my college years and it never once failed me.”

Stupid David with his stupidly charming face and his stupid sweet gestures.

Yes, this was _definitely_ David’s fault.

As Emma continued to mentally curse her brother, she quickly turned down a path she frequently used as a short cut to the Science building. She sent a ‘thank you’ out to whatever deities were listening that she lived on campus (parking was _such_ a nightmare) and adjusted the books in her hold enough to sneak a quick glance at the watch on her left wrist.

(Pointless, really, as she already knew what it was going to tell her).

Grumbling irritably, she lifted her now-free left hand to the breakfast she’d haphazardly stuffed into her mouth before she’d left her dorm that morning, and took a hearty bite. The sweet pastry did little to lighten her mood as she glanced ahead, still at _least_ five minutes away from her destination (and ten minutes late to her class). She shoved the remaining bit of the donut into her mouth and chewed as she increased her pace. As she did so, the books she had precariously balanced in the cradle of her right arm slipped slightly from her grip, causing her to momentarily look away from the path in front of her. She continued forward as she adjusted the stack in her grasp and just when she thought she had it under control, she ran smack dab into something tall and solid.

Her world tilted as she stumbled backward, the stack of books that had been so important only moments ago, forgotten as they tumbled from her arms during her effort to remain upright.

Her attempt, it seemed, was futile, however, as she ended up flat on her back on the sidewalk; her long, blonde hair in her face, books scattered all around her on the ground.

_Good luck charm, my ass._

Seriously, she was _so_ going to throttle her idiot brother.

After regaining her bearings, she moved to rise just as a pair of hands stretched into her line of sight. She studied them for a moment in bewilderment, unsettled by the collision (and lack of morning coffee), before placing her own hands in them on impulse. As she was lifted off the ground, she became aware of several things at once: her ass _really_ hurt; someone seemed to be talking to her; the hands holding hers were soft and warm and, oddly, _familiar_.

It was this thought that sent her back to reality, her green eyes suddenly flicking toward the man before her (the man whose hands still held hers).

 _Crap,_ Emma thought, _he is_ really _cute._

Cute and clearly distressed, his artfully tousled, dark hair falling over his striking blue eyes as he babbled endlessly, spouting what she now realized was a ridiculous number of apologies.

So _that’s_ what she’d collided with (or, more accurately, _who_ ).

She shook herself mentally ( _Now is really not the time to be ogling boys, Emma_ ) and forced her brain to focus on what he was saying to her.

“—wasn’t looking where I was going, lass, I’m _so_ sorry. “

Of course he had an accent.

 _Of course_ (as if he wasn’t attractive enough, _ugh_ ).

It was the chiming of the clock tower in the courtyard signaling the change of the hour that reminded her how she’d gotten into this situation in the first place.

It’s also what reignited her (misplaced) aggravation, which she now directed at the handsome, bearded man before her as she abruptly ripped her hands from his gentle hold and stepped back a few paces, glaring all the while.

Her reaction clearly caught him off guard as he had finally stopped his incessant babbling.  His brow furrowed in confusion as Emma shifted her gaze from him to the textbooks littering the ground. She checked her watch once more ( _fifteen_ minutes late now) and sighed before stooping to sort out what was hers and he mirrored her.

He was so close she could feel the heat from his body, smell the cologne he was wearing (or did he just _naturally_ smell that good?) and, really, she _tried_ to just ignore him, pick up her things, and continue on her way to class but…

 _Damn it, she was only human_ and there was just _something_ about him that kept pulling at her. So she glanced up.

The bastard was already looking at her.

When their eyes met this time, he smiled warmly, held out his hand, and said, “I’m Killian.”

Emma looked from his hand to his face a couple of times before she wordlessly rose from her place on the ground, restacked books in her grasp, determinedly ignoring his outstretched hand.

“And I’m late for class, no thanks to _you_ ,” she sharply replied as she turned away from him.

As she started to walk down the path toward the conglomeration of science buildings, she heard ‘Killian’ laugh and, what she assumed, were his footsteps behind her.

He was following her. Fantastic.

She picked up her pace, shifting the pile in her arms again but this time without looking away from what was ahead of her (she so did _not_ need to run into any other good-looking men today, thanks).

“You’re a tough lass, aren’t you?” She heard Killian ask, his lilting voice laced with amusement.

Emma said nothing as she rolled her eyes and continued walking.

“You know,” he began, now walking evenly with her, “Most men would take your silence as off-putting, but I love a challenge.”

Emma sighed once more, threw a glare at him, and focused ahead again, “Why are you following me?”

She saw his smile widen from the corner of her eye (a smile that absolutely did _not_ make her heart flutter wildly in her chest), clearly pleased that he’d gotten her to talk to him.

“Who says I’m following you?” He retorted, amusedly raising an eyebrow.

Emma scoffed and shot another brief glare at him; she’d just met this guy and he already knew exactly what buttons to push (and took obvious enjoyment in doing so).

“So, what’s your name, lass. I told you mine, only fair you return the favor.”

For whatever reason, she decided to indulge him (if only to get him off her back).

“It’s Emma,” she said gruffly, noticing she was (blessedly) close to her destination.

“Emma,” he repeated appreciatively, shifting the heap of books in his arms that paralleled her own, “Like the novel.”

“What novel?” Emma replied before she could stop herself.

Okay, she really had to get away from this guy. _Now_.

“ _What novel?_ ” he repeated, his tone fraught with disbelief, “Jane Austen? One of the greatest English novelists of the Regency era, probably of all time?”

Emma huffed out a laugh and raised an eyebrow at him, “Lit major, I take it?”

Caught off guard by her sudden change in temperament, Killian simply stared at her for a moment before laughing nervously and looking away from her in a way that could only be described as bashful.

“I am indeed,” he said, scratching behind his ear with his free hand, before he gestured at the books in her hold, “I’m going to hazard a guess and say yours is in some area of science?”

She nodded and allowed herself a small smile, “Specifically, natural sciences.”

Killian met her green eyes with his blue as his forehead creased in confusion again, “Natural sciences?”

“Yeah,” she said, heading in the direction of Hopper College of Engineering, “You know, chemistry, physics…biology?”

Killian chewed his bottom lip in earnest when he realized she’d altered her ( _their_ ) course, before simply replying with an, “Ah.”

They continued their trek in silence, seemingly lost in their own thoughts. When they were finally before the main doors, Emma hesitated momentarily before turning to Killian, shifting the books in her arms once more so she’d be able to open the door.

“Um well, it was nice to meet you, Killian,” she said, suddenly nervous as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s usually not this awkward around guys, _what the hell_?

The sound of his name seemed to shake him from his thoughts as he met her eyes and chewed his lip once more, briefly drawing her gaze to his mouth. Emma licked her lips nervously when he said nothing and moved to open the door.

“Wait,” she heard him mumble.

When she looked at him again, his expression seemed pained as his criminally blue eyes roved her face, searching for what she didn’t know. She waited, blinking at him as her hand rested on the door handle, pile of books balanced precariously supported by her left arm.

“I-I don’t usually do this,” he stuttered, his eyes holding hers as he took a step toward her, “But, um, would you, I don’t know, perhaps want to get a coffee with me sometime?”

She must’ve looked terrified, like a deer caught in the headlights because after a moment of silence, Killian tore his eyes from hers and laughed depreciatively, his hand moving to scratch behind his ear again (and she was so _not_ thinking about how adorable it made him look).

“Oh, um,” Emma started, “Actually I—my course load is really hellish this semester and I don’t really know if I’ve got time to—“

“Right, of course,” he said, waving her off as he shot an obviously disappointed, but understanding, smile at her.

She returned it hesitantly and moved once more to open the door and (finally) head to her class (perhaps if she hurried, she could catch the last half).

“Emma,” Killian said as she stood with the door propped open. He stepped toward her to help ease the weight of the door and handed her a folded piece of notebook paper.

“In case you need a break from your hellish schedule,” he explained with another smile as Emma took the paper from him, “Right then, um, see you around, I suppose.”

Emma nodded in agreement and mumbled back a quick “see you” before she turned away from Killian and entered the engineering building. As she walked slowly up the stairs in the direction of her classroom, she attempted to push all thoughts of her handsome, new acquaintance to the back of her mind, remembering the last time she’d let a guy come between her and her studies; _never again_.

After quickly climbing the stairs, she reached her classroom and looked through the window in the door. The professor’s back was (blessedly) turned toward the class as she slipped silently through and into a desk in the last row. Sighing with relief, she sifted through her belongings in search of her Quantum Physics textbook, only to discover that it wasn’t there. _Strange_ , she thought, _I could’ve sworn I brought it with me this morning._

She thought back to her run-in with Killian and wondered briefly if she had left it on the ground in the quad, when she saw an unfamiliar cover peeking out beneath her things. Puzzled, she pulled it out and looked at it.

It was a copy of _Pride and Prejudice_.

Or, more specifically, it was _Killian’s_ copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. She must’ve picked it up accidentally when they’d had their run-in.

Wait. If _she_ had _his_ book, then that meant…

He must have hers.

 _Shit_ , Emma thought with a grimace, _What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

Sighing, she forced herself to leave the issue alone until later; she’d already missed half of her class because of Killian, she was _not_ going to miss the rest of it because of him too. So, Emma spent the next twenty-five minutes soaking up as much knowledge as she could.

It was later that evening in her dorm, while she readied herself for bed, that she found that folded piece of notebook paper Killian had given her earlier that day in the pocket of her jeans. She sat on her bed, back up against the wall, and unfolded it curiously.

_It was his damn phone number._

Her roommate, Mary Margaret, walked in just as Emma chuckled in surprise, her eyes unconsciously tracing the curves and edges of his (naturally) elegant handwriting.

“What’s so funny?” She asked the blonde.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Emma said, a small smile lingering on her face, “I just remembered where I left that book I misplaced today.”

Mary Margaret nodded absently in response as Emma admitted to herself in that moment that maybe this wasn’t just about her book and that maybe, _just maybe_ , she was also looking forward to having an excuse to see Killian again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse wanted the interaction from the first part but from Killian's perspective so...here y'all go I guess, lol.

He’d dreamt about her again last night.

He’d dreamt of her soft, brown hair tickling his skin as she’d hugged him. Of the slide of her soft skin on his as she’d pulled away. Of the determination set in her gray eyes as she looked at him one last time. Of her walking away from him and out his door.

 _Her_ , his Milah.

Well, technically she wasn’t _his_. Not anymore anyway, probably never was, if he was honest with himself. She’d always been clear about her plans for the future, Killian just hadn’t realized that he didn’t quite factor into those plans until it was too late.

That was two years ago though, he was fine now. _Totally fine_.

 _So fine you’re still dreaming about the day that she left you_ , a cruel voice whispered in his head.

Killian sighed wearily and opened his eyes. He rose slowly into a sitting position on his bed and glanced over at the clock on his bedside table. The glowing red numbers told him it was six o’clock in the morning, three whole hours before he had to be in his first class. He should go back to sleep, but he knows he won’t be able to, not with the scene from his dream (and his past) still playing on a loop inside his head.

With another sigh, Killian maneuvered himself to the side of the bed and allowed his long legs to dangle over the edge as he reached to turn on his lamp. He squinted slightly as the light assaulted his sensitive eyes and yawned while pulling a hand through his sleep mussed hair. He then rose from the bed and stretched a bit before he shuffled over to open his bedroom door.

He lumbered into the kitchen and made a beeline for his coffee maker (a housewarming gift from his older brother Liam), hoping the caffeine would not only wake him up but also clear his head. Once the coffee was prepped, he went to the refrigerator and gathered the items needed to make his breakfast. Fifteen minutes later, Killian sat himself at the small table set in the space between his kitchen and living room and tucked into his meal.

He tried to keep his mind on his schedule for the day (Gothic Lit and Literary Criticism in the morning and then, probably his favorite, 19th Century British Lit after lunch) but for whatever reason his brain couldn’t seem to let go of _her_ this morning. Killian scoffed at his inability to focus and stood from the table, grabbed his dirty dishes, and made his way to the sink with them. After cleaning up, he ambled down the hall toward the bathroom he shared with his roommate Robin, slightly more awake but brain no less muddled, and started to ready himself for the day ahead.

An hour and a half later, Killian exited his apartment (which was off campus but thankfully still within walking distance), messenger bag slung across his body. He locked the door behind him before he made his way to the sidewalk in front of the complex.

His dream still dominated his thoughts as he walked.

 _Why can’t I shake it this time_ , he wondered. It had been at least a year since his that memory had stuck with him like this and he just couldn’t put his finger on why.

When Killian finally made it to campus, he made one final attempt to force his thoughts to more important things (like the major test he had coming up at the end of the week that would make or break his grade, for instance). He went through his class schedule in his head once more, mentally checking off the books he needed today, and found that he couldn’t quite remember whether or not he’d packed them all. Grumbling about his incompetence, he opened his bag and began to dig around inside, allowing his feet to carry him along the familiar path. As it turned out, his bag was so packed he actually had to remove several volumes just to look through it properly. He had four or five books in his arms by the time he reached the science quad and he _still_ hadn’t found everything he was looking for. Sighing to himself (boy, he was sighing a lot this morning), he heaved a few more tomes from his bag and just as he looked up to make sure he was still heading in the right direction, he found himself colliding with a petite blonde.

Killian watched in horror as the heavy books she’d been carrying tumbled to the ground as she herself flailed in a futile effort to stay vertical. It all happened so quickly that before he even realized it, he too had dropped his books to ground and was kneeling at her side, apologies flowing liberally from his lips.

“Oh, gods, I can’t believe I-I’m so sorry, are you alright?” He asked, stumbling over his words as he held out his hands to help her up.

Killian, so lost in his pleas for forgiveness, didn’t even really register when the noticeably shaken woman placed her hands within his outstretched ones, pulling her up on impulse. He didn’t notice how her hands felt like they _belonged_ in his, how just the feel of her skin on his chased any lingering thoughts he had of Milah from his mind. What he _did_ notice, however, was how she kept looking from him to their linked hands (and how her green eyes widened slightly when they met his blue ones).

“—wasn’t looking where I was going, lass, I’m _so_ sorry,” he continued, still completely and utterly mortified at having knocked someone over, let alone a _lady_.

She still hadn’t said anything so he continued to apologize, distantly noting the chime of the clock tower in the distance. The chime seemed to bring her back to herself though, because a few seconds later she was ripping her hands from his and glaring at him, clearly upset.

Her sudden adverse reaction confused him and momentarily halted his (admittedly numerous) apologies. He watched wordlessly as she backed away from him and knelt down to restack the books she’d been hauling before their collision. Deciding he had probably said enough, he too bent down to retrieve his own items.

He hadn’t realized how close they were to each other until he moved his head slightly to flick a wisp of hair out of his eyes; just a few more inches and he could bury his face in her lovely blonde locks if he wanted to (and judging from how wonderful she smelled from just _this_ distance, he had to admit to himself that he _did_ want to).

She must’ve felt his eyes on her because a minute later, she was looking at him cautiously through her lashes. Killian smiled at her in a way he _hoped_ was amiably (because the way he felt right then was decidedly _more so_ ), held out his hand for her to shake, and introduced himself.

“I’m Killian.”

The blonde said nothing as she (again) looked from his hand to his face, this time less dazed, more calculating. Ignoring his hand, she hauled her books into her arms and rose into a standing position.

“And I’m late for class, no thanks to _you_ ,” she replied with a glare before turning to walk away.

Startled, Killian, who was still crouched on the ground, stared at the woman’s retreating figure, before laughing aloud suddenly. As he began to rearrange his own stack of books, he noticed one that he presumed was hers (a rather large, expensive-looking physics book). He grabbed it and added it to his stack with the intention of catching up with her to give it back (she hadn’t gone too far), stood up, and walked as quickly as he could in her direction.

When Killian caught up with her, he watched amusedly as she started to walk just a _bit_ faster (probably hoping he’d take the hint and leave her alone, which normally he would, but he was a man on a mission).

“You’re a tough lass, aren’t you?” He asked teasingly, shifting the books in his arms so they sat more comfortably.

She continued to ignore him as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, now walking evenly with her.

“You know,” he began mischievously, deciding to have a bit of fun with her before returning her book, “Most men would take your silence as off-putting, but I love a challenge.”

Killian smiled amusedly as the blonde heaved a frustrated sigh and shot him a quick glare before she asked, “Why are you following me?”

He should’ve told her then that he was merely attempting to return the book she’d left behind, but she seemed so bloody _determined_ to ignore him and Killian just couldn’t help but want to know _why_. And so, he simply allowed his smile to widen and continued to goad her.

“Who says I’m following you?”

He received a scoff and another glare for his response (he should start keeping a tally) but they did nothing to deter him.

“So, what’s your name, lass? I told you mine, only fair you return the favor,” he asked, expecting yet another glare (and possibly even a _huff_ ) for his trouble.

To his surprise, she actually responded (though perhaps not as pleasantly as he might’ve preferred).

“It’s Emma.”

“Emma,” he said approvingly, “Like the novel.”

“What novel?” she said, apparently unable to stop herself.

Killian’s head whipped in her direction, shocked by her question.

“ _What novel?”_ he repeated incredulously, “Jane Austen? One of the greatest English novelists of the Regency era, probably of all time?”

Emma surprised him once again by laughing, of all things, and throwing a raised eyebrow and a knowing look in his direction before asking, “Lit major, I take it?”

Killian didn’t quite know how to respond at first, caught off guard not only by the correct assumption of his major but also by her smile; it didn’t just completely change her face (which he’d actually found quite lovely even when she’d been glaring at him), but it did… _things_ to him. It made him _feel_ things he hadn’t felt since he’d been with Milah. One simple tilt of her lips had his heart beating faster in his chest, had the hands that were clutching his books becoming damp with sweat, had made his throat become suddenly dry, made the breath back up in his lungs.

 _Bloody hell_ , he thought in alarm. If being on the receiving end of a simple _smile_ gave him such a reaction, he could only imagine what something like _kissing_ her would do to him.

He’d only just met this woman and she’d managed to make more of an impression on him than anyone else ever had.

Realizing that she was probably expecting an answer in response to her question about his major, he swallowed thickly and laughed, suddenly nervous.

“I am indeed,” he finally replied, scratching the space behind his ear (a nervous tick he shared with his brother) before gesturing to the books in her arms, “I’m going to hazard a guess and say yours is in some area of science?”

Emma nodded and smiled again (though it was fortunately not directed at him this time) before she replied, “Specifically, natural sciences.”

Killian looked at her, confusion etched on his face, “Natural sciences?”

“Yeah,” she replied, heading toward the building closest to them, “You know, chemistry, physics…biology?”

He realized as they neared the building (Hopper College of Engineering) that this was where Emma had been heading before he’d (literally) bumped into her. Chewing his lip he replied with a simple, “Ah,” all the while wondering what he should do; it was clear to him that he did not want this to be their only interaction. He didn’t know much about Emma but what he _did_ know was that he wanted to know _more_ (more like _everything_ , but there was plenty of time for that… _hopefully_ ).

His problem? He could tell that Emma was, at the very least, attracted to him; he’d seen the way she’d been trying not to eye him as he’d walked with her, he’d witnessed her reaction to his closeness, to his _touch_ …but did she want to _know_ him? Moreover, would she even _let_ herself want to know him? He’d been right, Emma _was_ a tough lass and Killian was sure she had her reasons for it, so perhaps he could let her take the lead somehow…

When they reached the door, Killian was too lost in his thoughts to notice how hesitant Emma was to say goodbye. The sound of her voice is what brought his attention back to the present.

“Um well, it was nice to meet you, Killian,” she told him as she nervously tucked her hair behind her ear.

Killian bit his lip as he watched her fidget uneasily, his eyes momentarily drawn to her mouth when she licked her lips nervously.

 _Say something, you ponce_ , said a voice in his head, _Give her your number at least_.

As Emma moved to open the door Killian made a decision; as quickly as he could, he wretched open the notebook that was (blessedly) on top of his pile of books, pulled the pen he kept in the pocket of his jeans out, and quickly scribbled down his number on a small scrap of paper he found.

Her hand was curling around the door handle when he suddenly blurted out, “Wait.”

Emma turned quickly in his direction, her blonde hair fanning out slightly around her, free hand still resting on the door as she balanced her books in the other. She met his eyes and waited for him to speak.

“I-I don’t usually do this,” he stuttered, determined to hold her gaze as he inched toward her, “But, um, would you, I don’t know, perhaps want to get a coffee with me sometime?”

Emma froze, her gaze still locked on his.

She looked downright _terrified_ , she looked like he’d just asked her to marry him, not have _coffee_.

 _She’s going to turn you down_ , whispered the cruel voice from that morning, _She’s trying to think of a nice way to say ‘thanks but no thanks.’_

Killian tore his eyes from hers when she didn’t respond and chuckled slightly as he scratched behind his ear once more.

“Oh, um,” Emma started, causing Killian’s hopeful eyes to flicker back to hers, “Actually I—my course load is really hellish this semester and I don’t really know if I’ve got time to—“

He was disappointed, of course, but had he _really_ expected her to agree? They’d only just met, _she didn’t even know him_. He shot her an understanding smile and waved her off, “Right, of course.”

She graciously returned his smile before she moved to open the door once more.

 _Your number, you wanker, give her your sodding number_.

By the time he finished this thought, she had the door propped open and was getting ready to walk through it (and away from him forever).

“Emma,” he said, walking over to help her hold open the door. He pulled the scrap of paper (now folded) out of his pocket and handed it to her before he lost his nerve.

“In case you need a break from your hellish schedule,” he explained with another smile, mentally rolling his eyes at himself.

Emma accepted the piece of paper as Killian continued, “Right then, um, see you around, I suppose.”

He watched as Emma nodded in agreement, quietly replying with a “see you,” before she turned away and finally entered the building. Killian watched her through the glass doors for a moment as she walked up the stairs before he forced himself to turn away.

 _Ball’s in her court now, Jones_ , he thought.

Killian shook himself slightly as he walked back the way he came. A glance at his watch told him he had about twenty minutes to make it to the other side of the campus where his first class was being held. It wasn’t until he made it back to the science quad where he’d had his encounter with Emma that he remembered he was still in possession of her book.

He stopped and looked back at the building she’d gone into and thought about his options: he could either go back and attempt to find the classroom she was in (which judging by the size of the building was akin to searching for a needle in a haystack) or he could go about his business and simply hope that she contacted him.

Deciding that the latter was probably the best option, Killian sighed and started his trek across campus.

Later that night when he was tearing his hair out after looking literally _everywhere_ for his copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ , he heard his text message alert go off. Killian ran a hand over his face in frustration as he dropped his bag on his bed and walked to his desk to see who was bothering him at such a late hour.

“It’s probably Robin, bet that wanker lost his bloody keys again,” he muttered under his breath before quickly swiping the unlock key.

He frowned when he read the screen, not recognizing the number. There was one unread message that simply said “hey.” Killian stared at it in confusion for a moment about to reply and ask who it was, when the same person sent him a picture.

_A picture of his book._

A picture that was quickly followed by the message “I believe this belongs to you.”

Killian laughed aloud, realizing who it was and feeling like an idiot for being so slow on the uptake.

_It was Emma. Emma was texting him._

Smiling to himself, Killian opened the bag he’d just thrown on his bed, pulled out Emma’s physics book, and snapped a quick photo of it. He sent it to her with the message “And I believe THIS belongs to YOU.”

Killian chuckled to himself as he saved her number in his contacts, staring at her name for longer than was probably necessary.

He quickly decided to silence any thoughts about Emma only texting him because she wanted her book back and, instead, chose to hope that there was more to it than that, that maybe she’d felt what he’d felt. That maybe, _just maybe_ , she was using this mix up as an excuse to see him again.

Hey, he could dream right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Okay, this is definitely, without a doubt the final chapter lol. Thank you SO much for reading, reviewing, following and all that jazz. Coming out of a 10 year writing hibernation was scary enough but you guys really helped make it less so with all your encouragement! *hugs you all* I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :')
> 
> (Un-beta'ed)

10:54 am.

 _Coffee is a college student’s best friend,_ thought Emma as she inhaled the familiar fragrance of the café and shifted in her chair. She watched idly as customers came and went from the counter with their beverages, nervously drumming her fingers on the table top, and constantly checking her watch.

10:56 am.

Emma sighed in mild frustration and shifted uncomfortably in her chair once more.

Why had she agreed to this again? Oh right, she needed her book back.

 _And the person that has said book is_ super _nice to look at,_ said a voice in her head (that she immediately silenced).

 _I’m just here for my book,_ she reminded herself, _He’ll come, we’ll exchange them and that’ll be that._

Emma nodded absently at this thought and glanced at her watch again.

10:59 am.

She swallowed and looked in the direction of the door, her crossed right leg bouncing anxiously. She had just enough time to consider how pleasant the morning sun filtering through the windows looked before it opened and a man walked through it.

Emma abruptly stilled as she quickly studied him; dark, unruly hair, lanky build, backpack hanging from his left shoulder. Her heart was suddenly beating madly in her throat as she silently implored the man to _turn around_. And he did.

It wasn’t him.

Emma released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her body instantly relaxing.

 _God, I am so ridiculous_ , she thought in disgrace, folding her arms on the table and resting her forehead on them. _He’s just a_ guy _. What the hell is my problem?_

Distantly Emma registered the sound of the door opening again and footsteps heading in her direction, but she held her position on the table, continuing to silently beat herself up. It wasn’t until she heard someone cough nearby that she decided to stop wallowing in her shame (for the moment anyway). Without much of a thought, she lifted her head from the table only to come face to face with the man she’d come there to meet.

He was smiling amusedly at her from where he stood beside the table, the look in his eyes suggesting that he knew exactly what was going on in her head.

“Rough morning?” He asked, a fond glimmer in his eyes.

Emma laughed awkwardly from her place at the table and pushed some of her long hair behind her ears, “You could say that.”

Killian met her eyes, still smiling as he nervously bit his bottom lip. Emma swallowed anxiously as she held his gaze.

“I was going to get myself a coffee, can I get you something while I’m up there?” He asked, gesturing to the counter to his right.

“Oh, sure. Thanks,” Emma said willing herself to just _relax, damn it_ , “A medium mocha with whipped cream and cinnamon, please.”

“As you wish,” Killian said as he nodded and started to move away toward the counter.

Emma smiled in thanks as she watched him turn and walk away. She let her eyes study him for a moment as he stood at the end of the queue and riffled through the messenger bag slung across his body.

Any memory she’d had of him certainly paled in comparison to the real thing. He was taller than she’d remembered, leanly built (she wondered absently if he maybe ran track for the school), his hair looked _beyond_ soft (her fingers were practically itching to card through it), and dear lord _, his eyes_ (they were dangerous, she was already fighting not to get lost in them and he’d only looked at her for a moment).

Emma was knocked suddenly from her reverie by the sound of laughter from the table behind her. She shook herself and glanced back over to the counter and saw Killian paying at the register. Willing herself not to stare as he made his way back to her, she picked up her backpack from the floor and began to search through it.

By the time Killian made it back to the table, Emma and found the small wad of cash she kept stashed in one of the inside pockets. She smiled amiably at him as he sat a cup down in front of her and moved to take the seat across from her.

“Thanks,” she said before taking a quick sip, “How much do I owe you?”

Killian waved his hand at her dismissively as he swallowed the mouthful of his own beverage, “Please, it’s the least I can do after making you so late for your class the other day.”

“Oh, well, that wasn’t _entirely_ your fault,” Emma began, “I was already pretty late when we…ran into each other.”

Killian huffed a laugh and moved to scratch behind his ear, “Ah, well, for knocking you down then.”

Emma smiled shyly ( _what was it about this guy, jeeze_ ) and nodded as she nervously licked her lips, “Oh okay, well, thank you.”

Killian returned her smile with one of his own as their eyes met and held for a moment longer than was probably necessary.

 _The book, give him his book and get the hell out of here,_ said a voice in her head.

“Speaking of the other day,” she started, wrenching her eyes from his and digging through her bag once more. “Here you go,” she said, setting Killian’s book down on the table beside his drink with a small smile.

She tried not to note the flicker of disappointment that passed quickly across his face when he’d looked from her to the book, but when his eyes meet hers again his smile isn’t quite as wide and the lightness in his eyes has lessened slightly.

“Right,” he said tearing his gaze from hers once more and rummaging through his own bag, “Here you are then.”

Emma knew that she shouldn’t feel bad as this _is_ what they’d met here for in the first place, but she _does_. Biting her bottom lip, she pulled her book from the table and stuffed it into her bag, her eyes still trained on the man across from her. He looked up from his satchel when he finished putting his own book away and met her gaze, the shadow she’d seen gone as quickly as it’d come.

“So,” he began, taking another sip from his coffee, “Any classes today?”

Emma shook her head, her hand nervously toying with the strap of the bag still in her lap, “Nope, today’s my day off. What about you?”

“Same here,” he said, chewing his bottom lip and studying her through his lashes for a moment, “I, uh, was actually going to try and go to this exhibit at the planetarium.”

Emma smiled as he averted his gaze and shrugged in what she figured was _supposed_ to be indifference, and gave threw him an amused look, “The planetarium, huh?”

Killian laughed slightly and scratched behind his ear again and Emma bit her lip as her smile threatened to widen.

“Yes, well,” he began, his eyes flitting back and forth between her and the table top, “I may be a Literature major but I do enjoy the occasional sojourn in the sciences.”

“Oh, do you?” Emma responded in amusement, suspecting he was only saying this in an attempt to impress her ( _as if he hadn’t already_ ).

Killian’s smile widened as he moved to rest his elbows on the table “Aye. I’m even considering it as a minor.”

Emma responded with a small smile and a noncommittal, “Hmm,” and took another sip of her mocha. “You know,” she began slyly and hoping she was reading him correctly, “There’s this Impressionist exhibit at the Mills Center for the Arts I’ve been meaning to check out.”

She watched him through her lashes as his smile faltered at her response; clearly he didn’t realize what she’d been suggesting. Suddenly nervous once more, Emma swallowed and swirled the remains of her drink in her cup.

“We could, maybe, go together…if you want,” she said, forcing herself to look at him.

Killian stared at her in response, wordlessly opening and closing his mouth.

When the silence between them continued for longer than Emma was comfortable with, she forced a laugh and nonchalantly said, “Some other time then.”

“No,” Killian said suddenly.

“…No?” Emma repeated as her stomach dropped.

“No, I, uh, I mean _yes_ , I’d love to go with you,” he explained with a pained expression on his face, “Today, I mean.”

“Oh,” Emma said before she smiled in relief, “Great.”

Killian returned her smile with a soft one of his own and Emma felt like her heart was going to explode from her chest it was beating so fast.

 _So much for just exchanging books, huh?_ Said a voice in the back of her mind (that she quickly dismissed).

“That exhibit it only open until three o’clock so if we want to see everything, we should probably leave soon,” Emma told him, looking at her watch.

Killian nodded enthusiastically and quickly drained the remains of his cup before standing up from his chair, “You all finished with yours?”

“Uh, yeah,” she replied grabbing her bag and moving to stand as well.

Killian took her empty cup before she could get to it and walked toward the garbage can by the door. Emma pushed her chair in at the table and moved to follow him. By the time she reached him, he was holding the door open for her, “After you, milady.”

Emma bit back a giggle (seriously, _milady_? Was this guy for real?) but allowed herself to smile at him in thanks as she walked through the door. He was beside her in a flash, looking down at her with the same affection in his eyes she’d seen when he’d greeted her earlier that morning.

“So, where’s this exhibit?” Killian asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Not far, just a few blocks from here. You don’t mind walking a bit, do you?” she said, adjusting the bag slung across her shoulders and glancing at him.

Killian shook his head and smiled at her, “Not at all.”

Any place worth visiting was more or less within walking distance (gotta love college towns) and they reached the arts center in no time at all (and they totally do _not_ spend the majority of the trek stealing glances at each other as they casually make small talk). Emma had her brother David to thank for her fascination with art; they were pretty close as kids, still were in fact, and some of her fondest memories of him were art-related. She’d stumbled upon the Mills Center during her first week of college; overwhelmed and feeling somewhat homesick. Viewing their pieces that day had calmed her, had made her feel safe, had made her feel _home_. She’d taken to visiting the Center whenever she felt lost or stressed after that day (it also gave her something other than her classes to talk about with her brother when they caught up on the phone).

She didn’t really know why she was sharing this piece of herself with Killian; maybe it was because she thought he’d understand somehow or maybe it was just because she thought he’d enjoy the art. Either way, the gravity of showing him her safe place was not lost on her and in the back of her mind she recognized that this _thing_ with him (whatever it was) wasn’t going to be something she could just sweep under the rug.

But she’d deal with that later.

The exhibit ended up being a blend of local and well-known artists so the degrees of talent varied. She and Killian chatted quietly while they viewed the artwork; it started as mere discussion about the pieces themselves (and Emma found herself impressed by Killian’s artistic knowledge) and gradually turned to more personal topics. They’d been swapping stories about their respective older brothers when the exhibit was ready to close.

* * *

Afterward, they set about to strolling aimlessly around town. Along the way, Killian regaled Emma with the story of how his brother Liam had thrown him a surprise party to celebrate the passing of his seventh year (he’d been only twelve at the time) and had made a point to embarrass the crap out of him in front of his classmates (“That’s what older siblings are for, yeah?”). The laughter had escaped her before she could stop it and without realizing it, the topic turned from their brothers to their most embarrassing moments from their childhoods and gradually became more serious.

Killian started it by choosing to tell Emma about Milah. She’d been his girlfriend since he was fourteen and as far as he’d been concerned at the time, she was the One. Killian had been mentally planning their lives together for years and as their commencement had drawn closer, he’d begun considering when to propose. He’d known that she wanted to study abroad (their small, dreary town had always been too claustrophobic for her) and while they hadn’t really talked about it specifically, Killian had assumed they were going to attend the same university.

That assumption turned out to be his downfall.

The night of their graduation, they’d been at a party together. He couldn’t really explain it, but for whatever reason it had felt like the right moment. So, he’d pulled Milah aside so that they were alone and proposed. Killian still remembers the look on her face, a mixture of shock and, worst of all, _pity_. He still remembers how she’d all but grimaced at him and asked him for time to think. He realizes now how blind he’d been; in retrospect, it was _so obvious_ that she was going to turn him down but, being the romantic that he was ( _is_ ), he’d overlooked the signs.

It had taken all his strength to remain upright when she’d shown up the following morning, returned the ring, and told him she was leaving. To say he was devastated was putting it mildly. He couldn’t bring himself to hate her, though; it wasn’t her fault that she hadn’t feel as strongly for him as he had for her. If Killian had been less blinded by his love for her, he might’ve seen it. He only had himself to blame, really.

Killian hadn’t intended to tell Emma any of this (at least not _yet_ ), it was depressing and probably wasn’t something she wanted to hear. When he’d concluded his tale, they were sitting on a bench in the park. Killian couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye, afraid that he’d find what he’d found in Milah’s all those years ago. The silence stretched between them as he resolutely watched the sunset through the trees, when he felt Emma’s hand on his.

Killian started and looked from it to her and was flooded with relief by the look in her eyes; it wasn’t judgment, it wasn’t pity, it was _understanding_. Killian watched as Emma swallowed thickly and averted her gaze, her hand still resting on his, as she told him about Neal.

She told him how she’d met him her freshman year at a mixer, how he’d said all the right things, how he’d made her feel _special_. Emma confessed that she hadn’t dated much in high school and that the attention from this older guy ( _a junior_ ) had thrown her completely. They’d dated for almost a year and Emma had fallen for him _hard_. Killian watched as she shakily took a deep breath, turned his hand so their palms were touching, and laced his fingers with hers. Her eyes met his again briefly and she gave him a small smile of thanks before she continued her tale.

Killian watched the tears pool in her eyes when she told him about how Neal had started acting oddly around her; refusing to let her spend the night at his apartment, fielding weird calls and texts from unknown numbers, constantly breaking their dates. She told him how a part of him had suspected he’d been cheating on her but that she’d chosen to ignore the signs, that she convinced herself that he loved her too much to hurt her that way.

It had turned out she was wrong.

It happened during the week before finals, she told him. She’d gone over to his apartment to study, as she’d been doing for the last several weeks, and had caught him in bed with another woman (a woman he’d apparently been seeing for _months_ ).

Needless to say, Emma had been utterly heartbroken. It was then, she told Killian, that she’d thrown herself into her studies and all but vowed to never let anyone that close to her heart again (save for her friends and family, of course).

Killian squeezed her hand in reassurance as she concluded her story, causing Emma to return her eyes to his. They held each other’s gaze for what was probably only a few seconds, but felt like _ages_ , the air around them practically humming at the electricity. The moment was broken, however, when Emma’s phone suddenly rang.

Killian took a steadying breath as they unclasped their hands and looked away from each other. He had dated a few women during his time at university, but they rarely went beyond two or three dates; with Milah’s memory haunting him, it’d been difficult for him to become too invested. But with Emma, _gods_ , he hadn’t felt the way he was feeling now in _years_. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. He knew she felt it too, he could see it in her eyes, but after hearing about her past, Killian was worried he’d lose her if he pushed too hard.

“Sorry,” he heard her say suddenly, returning her phone to her bag.

“It’s fine, no worries,” he said, meeting her eyes once more.

He watched as Emma bit her lip and nervously pushed her blonde hair behind her ears, “That was my lab partner,” she said, “I’m supposed to meet her in an hour to study for our test on Monday and I completely forgot.”

Killian tore his gaze from hers and glanced at his watch; it was going on five o’clock and while he was absolutely thrilled that she’d let him spend most of the day with her, he nevertheless felt a pang of disappointment in his gut.

“Bloody hell, I hadn’t realized how late it was,” he said, nervously raking a hand through his hair and returning his eyes to hers, “I’ve…got some homework to finish as well, I suppose.”

Emma nodded and rose from the bench, swinging her backpack across her shoulders. Killian followed, slinging his messenger bag across his body as he turned to face her.

“Do you live on campus?” she asked him suddenly, fiddling with the straps of her bag.

“Oh, uh, no I actually live in a flat across the street,” he replied, licking his lips nervously.

“Oh,” she said simply, in what Killian thought sounded like disappointment.

“Why do you ask?” he said, carefully watching her face.

“I…just wondered if maybe you wanted to walk back with me, that’s all,” she told him, anxiously shifting her stance, “But I’m sure it’s really out of your way.”

Joy surged through him and Killian allowed a small smile to grace his features as he closed the gap between them, “I’d be honored to accompany you, Emma.”

Emma returned his smile with one of her own before lacing her fingers with his once again.

“Shall we?” she asked amusedly, squeezing his hand slightly.

“We shall,” he replied, his smiled widening.

* * *

It took them almost a half an hour to reach her dorm and Emma gently held Killian’s hand the entire way. She reveled in the happy nervousness that had settled in her stomach, in the feel of his skin against her own, in the warmth that felt like it emanated from her very  _soul_ . She felt lighter, the burden of her sordid past no longer weighing her down. They chatted idly about their classes during their trek, and before she knew it, they were standing before the door of the room she shared with Mary Margaret.

They turned to face each other, their hands still clasped.

“Thank you for walking me back,” Emma said with a light smile, “And for, uh…returning my book.”

She watched as Killian nervously scratched that spot behind his ear ( _God_ , he really needed to stop doing that), his eyes continuing to hold hers, before he sincerely replied, “It was my pleasure.”

They continued to stare at each other, the moment in the park earlier picking up right where it left off. Emma’s gut screamed at her to _run, get out before it’s too late,_ as her heart simultaneously whispered for her to _take a leap of faith_ and for the first time in a very long time, Emma chose to follow her heart.

She stepped toward him, stopping only when the tips of her shoes met his, and slowly leaned in.

The moment their lips touched, a warmth spread through her, all the way down to her bones. Killian’s fervor matched her own as his lips glided over hers, their tongues tentatively caressing each other. Emma slid the hand that was not still clasped in Killian’s into the soft thickness of his hair as she continued to attack his mouth with her own. She felt him moan softly under her ministrations, his own free hand making its way to cup her face.

They broke away, breathless and entangled, when a door abruptly slammed somewhere down the hall. Emma smiled slightly, noting that Killian looked as wrecked as she felt. She pulled gently away from him then, remembering why she’d come back to her dorm in the first place, and absently licked her lips.

“Well,” Killian said, a slightly dazed look on his face, “I suppose I’ll see you around, Swan.”

Emma bit back a smile and nodded before turning to open her door. She threw one last look at him over her shoulder and said, “Yeah, maybe you will,” before softly closing the door.

Sighing happily (ugh, she was _such_ a cliché), she let her forehead rest on the door as the smile she’d been holding back spread across her face. A soft cough behind her made her spin around suddenly, eyes wide.

“Looks like you had a good day,” Mary Margaret said slyly, lounging on her bed with a book.

Emma felt herself flush as a knowing smile spread across Mary Margaret’s face. She swallowed nervously and said nothing as she walked quickly to her bed and dumped her bag onto it. She went to her closet to change her shirt before she left for her study session and heard her text message alert go off. Assuming it was her lab partner, she rushed to pick up her phone when she saw Killian’s name flash across the screen. The butterflies started fluttering around in her stomach again as she unlocked her phone to read what he’d sent her.

“Goodnight, Swan,” it said, and somehow that simple message caused the warmth she’d felt when she’d kissed him to flare up once more. She stifled the giggle that threatened to escape her throat ( _because Emma Swan does_ not _giggle_ ) as she replied, wishing him a goodnight as well.

She was so totally and completely screwed and she just couldn’t bring herself to be the least bit upset about it.

* * *

ONE YEAR LATER

There she was, decked out in her blue cap and gown, the former fastened securely to her blonde head with bobby bins, as she proudly displayed her diploma with a bright smile.

“You get in there too, David, I want one of both of my college graduates,” their mother ordered proudly, camera in hand.

David, who was about a head taller than her, rolled his eyes in jest and walked over to his little sister. He smiled at her proudly before wrapping and arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple, “I’m really proud of you, sis.”

Emma beamed up at him and draped her own arm around his waist, “Thanks, _bro._ ”

David nudged her playfully with his hip and looked back over at their mother who was patiently waiting for them to pose for her. They smiled as she took a few shots. David gave her a proper hug when she was finished, causing Emma to squeal something about her hair as her brother cradled the back of her head. As they pulled away, a smile graced her face once more as she spotted the two men walking toward them.

“Fancy meeting you here, Swan,” Killian said, his smile and outfit matching her own.

Emma rolled her eyes and hit him playfully on the arm, “You’re such an idiot.”

Killian continued to smile at her for a moment, before averting his gaze to Emma’s mother, “Hello, Ms. Swan, it’s lovely to see you again.”

Emma’s mother returned Killian’s smile and patted his arm affectionately, “You too, sweetheart.”

Killian scratched the space behind his ear nervously before motioning to the man behind him, his gaze locked on Emma, “Erm, this is my brother, Liam.”

Liam smiled at the group, offering his hand to David and her mother, before turning his attention to Emma.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Emma, I’ve heard quite a bit about you from my little brother here,” he said teasingly as Killian flushed slightly and grumbled under his breath.

Emma chuckled and shook his outstretched handle, “Likewise.”

When Liam was chatting happily with her mother a few minutes later, Emma decided it was finally time for Killian to meet David.

She introduced them and watched as her brother sized Killian up, mentally rolling her eyes. When he was finished studying her boyfriend, David held out his hand to him and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Killian.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Dave,” Killian said amiably, grasping her brother’s hand firmly, “I’ve been meaning to thank you for giving Emma that old alarm clock.”

Emma snorted suddenly as a baffled look crossed David’s face, his hand still gripping Killian’s.

“Right,” David said simply, releasing the other man’s hand and eyeing him suspiciously. Emma held back her laughter as her brother studied the two of them for a moment before excusing himself and joining his mother and Liam.

Emma’s eyes met Killian’s and the two of them burst into laughter the second her brother was out of range.

Emma punched him lightly on the shoulder before wrapping her arms loosely around his middle, “I cannot believe you said that to him.”

Killian continued chuckling lightly and wrapped his own arms around her, pulling her closer, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by.”

Emma shook her head, a soft smile gracing her lips, “You really are such an idiot.”

Killian smiled and bent to rest his forehead against Emma’s, sighing happily when her skin brushed his. “Perhaps I am,” he said softly, his lips inches from her own, “But you’re the one in love with the idiot, so what does that say about _you_?”

Emma only smiled in response before closing the gap between them with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Review (pretty please)?


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